


Shards of Glass

by Rangergirl3



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Platonic Relationships, Protective Lance (Voltron), Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 15:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangergirl3/pseuds/Rangergirl3
Summary: Haleykim84: Could I ask for childhood trauma, with maybe Lance finding out about it and trying to comfort Keith? Thank you :) I'm really excited to see you do bingo fics :)Haley!!! I loved writing this one out <3 <3 <3 Thank you for such an excellent prompt! <3





	Shards of Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Haleykim84: Could I ask for childhood trauma, with maybe Lance finding out about it and trying to comfort Keith? Thank you :) I'm really excited to see you do bingo fics :)
> 
> Haley!!! I loved writing this one out <3 <3 <3 Thank you for such an excellent prompt! <3

“Hey. Keith.”

_No answer._

Lance strained his neck, trying to see around him, but the cell was pitch black. He couldn't even see the door.

“Keeeeeith.”

_Still no answer._

Lance sighed and thumped the back of his head against the cold stone.

_Typical._

He was chained up in a dungeon with the _one_ Paladin who didn’t participate in conversation.

This was going to be so _boring_ unless Lance took drastic measures to ensure otherwise, so the Blue Paladin cleared his throat and began chanting rhythmically.

“KeithKeithKeithKeithKeithKeithKeith-”

Sounds of movement on the other side of the room made Lance break off, but when Keith still didn’t say anything, Lance went back to repeating the Red Paladin’s name in an annoying sing-song manner until he heard a faint groan of what Lance figured could only be exhausted resignation.

“ _Finally_ ,” Lance said. “Keith, listen, next time Coran wants us to go a diplomatic mission, remind me to pour salt in his slippers.”

He waited for a reply, but there was none. Keith had gone completely silent again.

More than anything, Lance wanted to break the eerie silence of this pitch-black cell.

“Aw, come on, man, you gotta admit that’d be a good prank. Imagine it. It’d take Coran _days_ to get all the salt out from between his toes...that is, if Altean have toes. At least, I think they should? But since I haven’t seen their feet...you know what, whatever, I’m just going to assume they have toes.”

_Still no reply._

Experimentally, Lance pulled at the chains holding him against the pillar, but the cuffs only chafed his skin.

_Hmm._

If he did much more of that, he’d bruise his wrists. That wouldn’t be good. Lance needed his hands in tip-top condition to remain the best sharpshooter on the team.

He said as much to Keith, but the Red Paladin didn’t respond to that, either.

Then the chains holding him in place against the wall went taunt, forcing Lance to stand on the very tips of his toes. If he got tired, or if something happened to his legs, or knees, or feet, his entire weight would come down on his wrists. It might not break them - but even if it didn’t, it would hurt like a son of a bitch.

_Oh, today was going to suck. So much. So very, very much._

* * *

* * *

Keith hated the dark. 

Or, at least, he hated having no choice about being in it. Sometimes, when his headaches got really bad, being in a dark room was about the only way to keep the pain at manageable levels, but that was a choice he made for himself, even if it was one of the only viable options left open to him.

This cell, this absolute darkness - it wasn’t a choice. It was something forced upon him, and that scared him more than he would ever willingly admit. The chains made everything worse, because he was defenseless as well as imprisoned. Anyone could do whatever they wanted to him, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

He’d never wanted to be in that position again.

But now, he was, and worse, Lance was with him. _Lance_ , who had never known anything like what was about to happen. Yes, the Blue Paladin was experienced in things like battle tactics and fighting scores of enemies, but torture?

Cold, focused cruelty from someone who broke you into fragments and enjoyed every second of it?

Lance had never known that.

But Keith had, and he’d barely survived it. Even now, _years_ later, bits of memory still bled through his defenses, and when they did, all he could do was focus on things _here_ and _now_ and concentrate on the present as if his life depended upon it, because sometimes, it did.

Lance kept saying his name, over and over.

Keith tried to answer, but he couldn’t. Fear, real fear, stole words from him. It always had.

Speech was _always_ the first thing to vanish when memories from the past crashed down on him.

* * *

The dark made everything worse, so _much_ worse, because he couldn’t ground himself in the present. He couldn’t _see_ anything, he couldn’t _touch_ anything, he couldn’t even _talk_ or _think_ or _do_ **_anything_** except remain suspended here, excruciatingly aware of just how vulnerable he was to attack. To make things worse, his back and legs ached and bled as if someone had struck him repeatedly with a blunt object.

When had _that_ happened? He couldn’t even remember how they’d gotten here, let alone how he had ended up with what felt like the most thoroughly vicious beating he’d ever lived through.

They’d been captured, drugged, and brought down here separately, he supposed. Maybe he’d put up more a fight then he remembered, and they beat him because of that. Or...maybe...

A sound slashed through his memory, something like a baseball bat hitting a target, followed by another hit, and another, and something telling Keith he was worthless and -

_No, nope, not happening, not now, not here, oh hell no, no, no, no, no._

Time to disengage from the past, right the _fuck_  now.

* * *

Keith did what he always did when the past tried to sink its claws into him. He focused on the facts in front of him, because if he could do that, he could keep the past where he wanted it to stay, dead and gone, forever.

He intentionally shifted his position so that some of his weight pulled more on his left wrist than it did on his right. Almost immediately, different muscles, tendons, and joints told him that had been a bad idea, a very bad idea, a phenomenally _stupid_ one, in point of fact.

But it did what he had wanted it to do, which was to pull him out of a flashback.

Yes, maybe it had exacerbated his other injuries. And yes, Shiro _had_ told him that it wasn’t the best thing to do because it only put more stress on Keith’s body as a whole. And _yes_ , maybe he _would_ throw up in the near future because everything hurt so damn much. But, at least he could focus on the problems of the present instead of the nightmares of the past.

Someone, at some time in the _recent_ past, had beaten him until he couldn't stand. That was all he needed to know for now, and as he was hanging from the ceiling with both of his wrists chained above his head, he was going to feel a lot worse before he felt better. Even though he had to concentrate hard on keeping his breathing even, at least he wasn’t reliving the worst moments of his life anymore.

 _Not yet_ , _anyway_. A voice in his mind said. Keith swallowed. Fuck, he _hated_ it when that voice started talking.

From the other side of the room, Lance let out an annoyed snort. He’d been speaking this whole time, but Keith was only now able to hear it properly.  

“Gee, I guess it wasn’t enough to be chained up in a pitch-black dungeon with you, was it, Mullet? Nope, the villain of the week had to go ahead and play the control card and make us stand on tip-toe.” The Blue Paladin sighed in what might have been real disappointment in how predicatable assholes could be. “Not especially creative, but I guess it beats hanging from the wrists, am I right? At least the creepy-Alteans-from-another-dimension haven't tried that yet.”

* * *

 Keith swallowed and forced himself to take a deep breath before he stammered out some token answer. 

"-'s - n-not - so - b-bad."

Lance’s feet could still touch the ground, and the Blue Paladin was still able to make jokes. So, in all likelihood, Lance had not been beaten. If true, that would mean his friend was uncomfortable, but not in real pain.

 _Not yet,_ _anyway_ , the voice in his head said. _But that will change soon enough._

Keith felt his arms beginning to shake, and he closed his eyes and tried to focus on whatever Lance was saying, but the voice in his head didn’t go away.

_Once it really gets started, he’ll be screaming within minutes. You were. **Remember**?_

Before Keith could stop himself, he let out a faint whimper.

Lance's voice didn't stop or slow, so all the Red Paladin could do was hope that maybe his friend hadn't heard him.

* * *

From the other side of the room, Lance let out an incredulous snort. 

"Tell me, Keith. How _could_ it be worse, exactly?"

That made Keith let out a half-choked laugh. It was more a cough than anything else, but he could almost _see_ Lance bristle.

" _What?!"_ The Blue Paladin demanded. "Is this _normal_ for you or something?"

Keith was too busy doing his best not to pass out to give his full attention to what he said next. 

"No -'ve - just - had - w-worse - Tuesdays, 's all."

There was a momentary pause. Then Lance's voice shot back over the space between them, its pitch high and confused and very much startled into sheer honesty.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?!"

* * *

* * *

When Keith didn’t answer his question right away, Lance swallowed and then tapped his toes and wiggled his fingers because oh my gosh he was _so done with Keith being all mysterious and Lance was so **bored** -_

 _\- Not bored,_ **_scared_** _, Lance, you’re being funny because you’re scared- _you’re doing it again, Lance, this is what you **always** do-__

Lance told the voice in his head to ‘ _hush!_ ’ until further notice. It did, sort of, and that meant Lance was able to turn his attention back to his out-of-sight teammate.

“Come on, Keith, talk to me. Please? It’s -"

Lance clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. He _hated_ admitting feeling scared. But whatever Keith had said was important, he could sense it. So Lance swallowed and admitted he was afraid, albeit in his inimitable manner.

"-kinda spooky down here. Downright creepy. I mean - _wow_. Dark, cold, _and_ underground? Evil Altean Scientist Overkill - and then you say something about having _worse_ Tuesdays and I don't know _what_ to do with that and-”

To Lance’s surprise, a reply came.

“-‘s-”

Keith’s voice was rough, as if his throat hurt him.

"-'s nothin. Forget I s-said anythin'."

* * *

Lance wished he could see his friend. Dang it, he was no good at just _hearing_ people talk, he needed to see people’s faces, try to read how they held themselves and attempt tounderstand the full context of their words.

Or, that was how he would usually proceed. This time, though? It wasn’t an option.

So instead of barraging Keith with questions right away, Lance bit his lip and thought hard for a minute. As much as his inner four-year-old wanted to begin belting out ‘Ten Thousand Bottles of Beer On The Wall’ - _hahahaha_ **_stress reliever_**! - it probably wouldn’t help Keith much.

If their nearly-constant bickering had accomplished anything, it was that Lance now knew that it was all too easy for the two of them to get on each other’s nerves in stressful situations. Given that this particular situation was cuckoo-bananas-shit-gone-sideways-straight-into-the-fan-levels of crazy, the mantra ‘patience yields focus’ might prove even more useful than usual.

But, oh, _god_ , this silence was _killing_ him.

“Um, so,” he said. “Got any good stories?”

That at least got a laugh out of the Red Paladin, even if it was a strained one.

“-’re k-kidding me.”

“Nah, I’m totally serious,” Lance said. “I mean, we got time, right? Might as well get to know each other better, yeah?”

“Dunno. I don’t - have much - to t-talk 'bout.”

From the sound of it, Keith’s breathing was getting more and more labored.

_Was something wrong?_

As usual, Lance hid his worry with cheerful determination.

“Oh, well then, um, I’ll go first. Let’s see...”

He cleared his throat and did his best Jedi impression. “A long time ago in a country far, far away -”

“Careful.” Keith’s tone was deadpan. “Any more of that and - ” He broke off, coughing, but before Lance could ask if he was okay, Keith had managed to croak out the rest of his sentence.

“-they’re gonna sue you for - c-copyright infringement.”

Lance rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. At least Keith sounded like he had a little bit of energy back. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Well, anyway, I was born in Cuba. I’m the youngest kid, and I’m an uncle, too. It’s pretty great.”

Keith’s reply was slurred.

“...oh...’s...cool...”

Lance gnawed his lip. Oh, that was _really_ bad. Keith was already fading in and out of focus again. _Shit_.

“What about you, Keith? I know you and Shiro are close, but, uh, you got - like, any relatives you visit over the holidays?”

There was an even longer pause this time.

“...no,” Keith finally said. “...‘s just me.”

At that point, Lance wished he were facing the stone wall behind him so he could bang his own forehead against the wall in an effort to knock some sense into his head.

 _Real great, Lance, yeah, bring up the fact that you have a huge family and Keith doesn’t have any family at all. You’re a great friend, you are_ , _you_ -

“...what’s...it...like?”

Lance snapped out of his self-recrimination. “Huh?”

“...having...you know....”

The Blue Paladin opened his mouth, then shut it again when Keith went on.

“...a...mom?”

Immediately, Lance mentally added at least six items to the list of things to do when he got back to Earth. One, take Keith back to his house. Two, introduce Keith to his family. Three, make matching sweaters for everyone including Keith. Four -

Then the door to their cell opened, and Lance turned to glare up at whoever it was who had captured them.

* * *

* * *

Light bled down from the door above them, allowing a faint few rays of light into the cell.

Footsteps on the stairs, coming down. Steady tread, relentless. Whoever this was had at least a semblance of self-control.

Keith's heart leapt into overdrive, and he had to force himself to let out a steady breath. The voice in head was _screaming,_ now, louder than it ever had before.

_Mind control, slavery, brainwashing, that's what's in store for you, both of you, **and it's all your fault, Keith, it's all YOUR FAULT**_

Lance was still snarking back up at their captor - Hira's favorite scientist, whatever his name was. The one who had the evil-anime-guy-glasses-reflective-sheen signature look.

_Please, Lance, don't make him mad, please, please don't, he'll hurt you for it, please, please shut up_

* * *

* * *

Even before their captor spoke, Lance knew the day was going to get worse. Something about the way the Altean scientist stood simply radiated arrogant contempt.

“I see you’re both doing well,” he said. “Given the circumstances.”

Lance continued to glare out into the darkness. “Yeah, no thanks to you, jackass,” he snarled.

The alien tilted his head to one side, his gaze pensive. “I assure you, I’ve been quite restrained in my methods so far.”

Lance made no attempt to hide his sarcasm. “Oh, wow, aren’t you nice. I’ll send you a thank you card right after I kick your ass right up between your ears.”

Their captor gave the Blue Paladin a cold smile. “That, I find unlikely.”

Lance jutted his jaw out belligerently. “Yeah, I guess a card isn’t really gonna happen. Postage is expensive as hell in space. The ass-kicking, though-” His blue eyes were hard as ice, belying the light hearted tone of his voice. “-that _is_ going to happen.”

* * *

* * *

The light laugh their captor gave at Lance’s threat sent chills down Keith’s spine, and the full-body shudder that shook him was purely reactive in nature. Even light years away from Earth, and in another reality, it seemed that psychopaths shared notable characteristics.

The dull pain in Keith's body kept pounding away at his senses. His arms already shook from the strain of bearing his full weight, so he held on to the faint hope that his reaction had gone unnoticed.

“Ah. I see your friend is awake as well.”

The captor was still talking to Lance, but his attention was firmly fixed on Keith, and his eyes were flat and empty.

 _-Oh, fuck, oh, no_ -

“It’s thanks to him that you both are here,” the alien said. “I’m afraid negotiations with Voltron became...untenable the moment we realized what he is.”

Keith’s heart plummeted. 

_He should have known. Sooner or later, he was **always** going to put the others in danger._

Lance’s voice went to defiant to weary observation in half a breath.“Oh, tell me you’re not - oh, you are. That’s _great_ , of course we have to listen to some crazy space _racist_ speech. Keith, can you believe our bad luck? Keith?”

Keith couldn’t answer. The flat, empty look in the alien’s eyes was only a cover for the hatred that burned there too.

Lance was still trying to get the Red Paladin’s attention. “Keith, hey, you can still hear me, right?”

The alien blinked. “You call it by _name_?”

* * *

* * *

The question was so ridiculous that Lance spluttered for almost five seconds before opening his mouth to answer, “Of course I call him by his _name_ , you _moron_ , what are you, both evil _and_ stupid?”

But even as he did so, the alien pressed a button on the wall.

* * *

* * *

The chains pulled on Keith's wrists, and he managed to keep his teeth clenched tight enough to stifle the cry of pain and fear that escaped him. Even as he tried to focus on the present, memories reached up and sunk their claws into his consciousness. 

_He sat on the floor in front of a blank, white wall. He fidgeted, bringing his arms to his sides, already bored. He wanted to go outside and play._

_Leaning backwards and placing his weight on the palms of his hands, he turned his head to one side, trying to get a glance out of the windows down the hallway._

_A hand grabbed hold of his hair and pulled his face towards the wall again._

_"Don't move."_

_Keith wriggled, tried to pull away. _The grip hurt. He wanted it to let go, but it only_ went tighter, forcing him to face the corner again._

_"Stay **there**."_

_Keith squirmed. When he tried turned his head again, a growl sounded from somewhere above him. It was followed by a thud of impact as _the person slammed Keith's forehead into the wall and kept it there, grinding his face into the plaster.__

_"I said **don't move**."_

__It hurt enough to make Keith whimper, and without meaning too, both of h _ _is arms dropped limply against his sides as the voice above him continued to snarl in anger.___ _

____" **Listen to me** , you -"_ _ _ _

Then an indignant shout pierced through the memories of nightmares, and Keith’s awareness abruptly returned to the present.

“ _Ow_! Hey, what the hell - ow...hey, Keith, buddy, are you okay?”

The Red Paladin tried to speak, but could only swallow and croak ‘Yeah,’ and Lance muttered indignantly about _stupid_ villains and their _stupid_ power moves and, much to Keith’s relief, it sounded as if Lance’s yelp of discomfort had been startled, but truly frightened. 

Keith knew that Lance could, and would, act nonchalant as long as he could in the face of imminent danger.

Then, without warning, only the chains holding Keith up went completely slack. He hit the ground hard, and when he did, he landed badly. Something in his left ankle twisted out of place, and when the bruises on his back struck the floor, the pain that stabbed through him was too much. 

The Red Paladin cried out before he could stop himself. It was a sound that he’d tried to forget for years.

“Keith?! Keith, what happened? What's wrong?”

Lance sounded both scared and confused, but there was no time to answer him before the Altean scientist stepped out of the shadows at the foot of the stairs and kicked Keith in the side, driving the most of the breath out of the Red Paladin's body.

_Well, that took care of one problem. Keith wouldn’t be making those noises anymore._

Keith curled up, doing his best to protect his head with his arms, and felt tears sting at his eyes when he couldn’t remain completely silent.

_\- sound was bad, they got angry if you made any noise, so you just had to shut up and endure it-_

The person kicked him again, in the back this time, and when the bruised skin tore open, Keith found that he wasn’t able to keep quiet at all.

* * *

After a few more awful seconds of repeated thuds, broken only by half-articulated noises of pain, the alien stepped back, revealing someone lying on the floor, dressed only in a blood-stained and tattered flightsuit. It was someone with scruffy dark hair.

It was Keith, and he was hurt.

Lance’s stomach fell three feet in half as many seconds. He was scared, yes, but he was angry, too.

“What the hell did you do to him?!”

The alien only drew out a glowing yellow orb from one of the pouches he wore around his waist.

“It seems,” the Altean said, as if nothing of import had just occurred, “that you are unaware of his true nature.”

That cold, unemotional statement was even more unnerving than the way Keith just lay where he’d curled up into a ball, still lying on his side facing towards Lance. The Red Paladin wasn't acting at all like his usual, impulsive, fight-until-the-last-breath-self. He just remained as still as he possibly could, even though he was still shaking from cold and pain. The scientist kicked Keith in the ribs again before seizing him by the shoulders and pinning him against the far wall.

In that moment, Lance hated the monster in front of him, the one who thought that Keith was worthless just because he was different.

* * *

* * *

The Blue Paladin threw himself forwards, consequences to himself be damned, but the chains holding him in place remained taunt. 

Then he realized that he'd seen this glowing yellow orb before. It had been before the Paladins had realized exactly who they were dealing with. It was a sort of quintessence-revealing light that showed a visual representation of person’s innermost core.

Pidge’s core had been like a thousand growing leaves, each one fluttering in a breeze. Hunk’s core had shone like the sun at midday. Lance’s core had sung and shone like moonlight on the waves. Allura's core had been indescribably ethereal, like clouds over the sea at sunset, all different shades of white and purple and blue and red and vermillion. 

Keith hadn't been near enough for the light to shine on him then. But now, it was clear enough.

His core was unlike any of the others.

It was… _broken_.

Scars criss-crossed his back, torso, arms, neck, and the palms of his hands. Some were raised, the injury having been reopened time and time again until the original wound was lost under the layers and layers of scar tissue. Others were jagged, signs that a serrated edge had inflicted intentional, calculated harm with what looked like disturbing surgical precision. The worst of those lacerations were centered around the Red Paladin’s heart, as if the person - or persons - wielding the knife had almost succeeded in removing it entirely.

Something - or someone - in his past had broken him.

 _No_.

‘Broken’ didn’t do that awful sight justice.

Keith’s core had been _shattered_ \- and judging from the multitude of scars, it had been shattered repeatedly over an unimaginably long period of time.

The worst part, though, was when the Altean scientist seized hold of Keith's hair and pulled his head back, forcing him to look back at Lance.

The Red Paladin’s face was….

Oh, god.

There were the outline of hand-marks on his face.

Everywhere.

Lance knew what loving hand-marks looked like, knew what they felt like. Some of his happiest, earliest memories were of times when his mother would cup his face between her hands and kiss his forehead before he went to school, or when his father affectionally ruffled Lance’s hair after Lance had made everyone at the dinner table laugh.

The hand-marks on Keith’s face were…

They weren’t loving.

They weren’t affectionate.

They weren’t like anything Lance had ever known.

Keith’s cheekbones, forehead, and chin were littered with bruises left by harsh blows and swift strikes. Scars formed of golden light tugged at the right side of his mouth, drawing that side of his face into a contorted expression of constant fear and never-ending apprehension. Black veins radiated out from his left eye, as if a deadly toxin that had been injected into the iris were still doing its best to kill him. And his eyes…

The look in his eyes was one of a dull, relentless pain. It would have been despair, if there had been any real strength left to give it that kind of power. Instead, it was that of a simple, weary resignation.

In a word, it was loneliness.

Lance thought he would have preferred anger, somehow. _Anything_ would be better than this.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Lance’s voice failed him. He didn't know what to say. 

_I'm so sorry?_

It would precious little good in the present circumstances, even though Lance was being completely sincere.

_I didn't know?_

The signs had all been there.

“Keith, I -”

Keith didn't even twitch. He just closed his eyes and didn't stir a muscle, even when the scientist smiled a thin-lipped smile and adjusted his hold on Keith's hair.

"There. I _knew_ you would see sense."

* * *

* * *

As the scientist gloated, Keith kept his eyes closed, even though it was all he could do not to collapse against the wall.

_Don't react. Don't make noise. Don't draw attention._

Instead of thinking about how badly his eyes ached, Keith tried to focus on how the cold stone pressed against the back of his head helped take the edge off the pain, but the scientist kept  _talking_. 

Keith couldn't help it. He let out a faint groan. 

His head hurt so _badly_. It felt as if the nerves behind his eyes had caught flame, somehow.

Then hands were pushing and pulling him back into an upright sitting position. Keith wasn’t sure why, exactly. It wasn't like he could stay sitting like this for very long. 

"-see sense," the voice above his shoulder said.

Then something icicle-cold and dagger thin plunged straight into his back, and it _hurt._

* * *

* * *

Lance didn't see the blade move, but he saw the almost paper-thin, leaf-shaped stiletto dagger appear in Keith’s back mere seconds after the scientist finished speaking

It happened so fast that at first, he thought he’d imagined it. He _hoped_ that he had imagined it.

That illusion vanished the moment scarlet began to stain the stones.

* * *

* * *

Keith screamed and thrashed in startled reaction to the agony before he could stop himself.

_What had he ever done to this person to make so **angry**?_

__You_ ** _exist_** _,_ _the voice in his head told him _. _Isn’t that reason enough?__

As the Altean scientist twisted the blade in one direction, the pain swelled up and almost drowned out the words he spoke into Keith's ear.

"Your kind," the Altean said, "will _finally_ die out."

Keith wanted to lose consciousness, to withdraw from what was happening, but it was if his mind and his soul were locked into place. There was nothing he could do but endure.

Lance was shouting. Keithhad no way of knowing if the tears rolling down his face now were from the pain or from the fear, but at this point it hardly mattered.

As the blade twisted in the other direction, Keith thought that maybe the pain itself would kill him. 

_He had tried not to cry. He had tried so hard not to break, but he should have known that even the most stubborn people were forced to take notice of their pain threshold when it shattered into shards of glass._

He’d failed, and now Lance knew just how worthless Keith truly was. Lance would never want to be friends with someone who cried like a little kid instead of doing something useful in a situation like this.

* * *

* * *

Lance stared in horror at the scene before him. Blood already soaked Keith's black flight suit, and his eyes weren't focusing on anything in the room.

_Keith was hurt._

As if from a great distance, Lance saw the Altean scientist readjust his grip on the blade as he spoke. 

"Its' resilience should be finally be broken. This particular poison works quickly. Within moments, it won't be able to see or hear. Death will follow swiftly."

_Keith was dying._

“It may take until tonight for this -  _creature's_  - mental influence to wear off, but I’ll be sure to come back for you then, Blue Paladin. I'm sure you see why w-”

Then Lance looked back up at the scientist, and his eyes were as hard and as merciless as chips of Arctic winter. When he spoke, his words frosted on the freezing air.

“Here’s the thing, _jackass_.”

Veins of frost crept up the side of the Blue Paladin’s face.

“ _You don't have that long_.”

* * *

_What Lance remembered afterwards was fragmented, at best. The only clear image he ever truly recovered was one that showed in the distorted reflection of the icy frost on the wall. The alien who had twisted a knife into Keith's back was pinned, literally, against the far wall of the cell with five precisely aimed ice daggers. Lance dimly remembered being genuinely annoyed that the jackass was well and truly dead by the time he got completely free of the chains._

What followed after, though?

Lance remembered for the rest of his life.

* * *

* * *

The room was fading out of sight.

That wasn't good.

_Even though the visibility had been close to zero all this time, the light streaming into the cell hadn't lessened, had it?_

Or maybe the Altean scientist had already left and shut the door, and just left Keith here in the dark to die.

Keith whimpered and tried to roll onto his side, so that he could try to get enough air into his lungs to cry, but it was useless. The strain on his body had been too much. He couldn’t even move. He just lay there, curled up on the ground, with his back throbbing and stinging and aching and _hurting_  worse than it had ever had before.

“...L...ce...?”

There was no answer. Keith tried to call out again, but then he couldn’t stop coughing, and the taste of blood in the back of his throat grew even stronger. It had never been this strong before, not even when his nose had bled for almost an hour straight that one time in his junior year of high school.

Then someone shoved a red-hot poker into Keith’s stab wound. Or, at least, that’s what it felt like.

“Oh, shit, Keith, this is bad - okay, uh, oh wow, that’s a lot of blood - uh - hang on, okay, I’m going to radio the Castle, see if they can come and get us out of he-”

* * *

It was so _cold_.

All Keith wanted to do was rest. 

That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? He was so tired. The pain might finally stop if he was able to rest.

_It was so cold in the cell._

It took all of his concentration just to remember how to speak.

“...’nce...”

“Hang on, buddy.” Lance said. “Just - just hang on, okay? I’m going to help you.”

He put pressure onto the wound, like he was supposed to, and Keith broke off with a scream as if someone were setting fire to his skin.

Lance blinked tears out of his eyes, but kept steady pressure on the injury.

"I'm sorry," he said, over and over. "I'm sorry, Keith, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's okay, buddy. It's going to be okay. They're on their way. We're going home, okay? You and me, we're going home."

 

The last thing Keith heard before he finally lost consciousness was Lance's reassurances.

 

"It's going to be okay, Keith. It's going to be okay." 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always loved!! <3 Also keysmashing is totally okay <3 <3
> 
> Hhoo boy it's 1am. I gotta get to sleep. Any editing issues are on me. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
